


Of Drawls and Double-Ds

by a_stands_for



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Accents, Breasts, Cisgender, F/M, First Meetings, Genderswap, Het, Love Bites, Love Confessions, POV Second Person, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kink meme.  Originally posted May 2011.</p>
<p>In which Dave is distractingly southern and John is distractingly stacked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Drawls and Double-Ds

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Holy SHIT, John, you have HUGE TITS" In a heavy southern drawl. Originally posted [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/6376.html?thread=7954920#t7954920).
> 
> (Today the A stands for Attraction)

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 12:46 --

TG: yo egderp   
EB: hey dave! whats up?   
TG: guess where im at   
EB: um, your bedroom?   
TG: nope   
EB: where?   
TG: washington   
EB: whaaaat? why?   
TG: not quite the reaction i was hoping for there   
EB: sorry, its just...   
TG: just what   
TG: i thought youd be ecstatic   
TG: we can finally hang out irl   
EB: yeah...   
EB: i guess im just a little nervous about that.   
TG: ...   
TG: egbert   
EB: ...yes?   
TG: is there something you dont want to tell me   
TG: the only picture of yourself youve ever sent me is some fuzzy head shot   
TG: and you always refuse my invitations to voicechat   
TG: could it be   
TG: youre actually   
EB: ...   
TG: a sixty year old creeper   
EB: dave!   
TG: jk   
TG: what kind of pedo would pretend to be my friend for so long that i grew up   
EB: heh.   
TG: so really   
TG: whats the holdup   
TG: are you fat   
TG: ugly   
TG: afraid that if we meet in person youll no longer be able to deny your huge homo-crush on me???   
EB: daaaave, how many times have i told you, im not gay!   
TG: whatever man youre totally up in my grill   
TG: seriously tho   
TG: do you want me to back off   
TG: i could be at your place in 20 min tops   
TG: but if you really dont want me to come   
TG: i wont pressure you   
EB: ...   
EB: i   
EB: i do want to hang out with you.   
EB: weve been best bros for years.   
EB: i really   
EB: ...   
EB: im just worried that   
EB: ...   
TG: john   
TG: relax   
TG: no matter what youre hiding   
TG: were still bros for life   
TG: except for the 60yr old pedo thing i wasnt joking about that one   
TG: but only because i know its not true   
TG: no one could possibly fake what you are   
EB: what do you think i am, Dave?   
TG: the derpiest   
TG: nerdiest   
TG: most shit-movie obsessed   
TG: funniest   
TG: awesomest loser who ever carved a niche in a coolkids heart   
TG: oh gog that was gay why did i type that   
EB: ...   
EB: i am grinning so big right now.   
TG: yeah i can practically see it from here   
TG: youre wiggling in your chair with glee arent you   
EB: yes i am!   
TG: so   
TG: yes or no time   
TG: may i crash at your place???   
EB: hooo   
EB: oh gosh   
EB: no turning back now...   
EB: yes   
EB: dave strider, get your ass over here!   
TG: at last, the riddle of john egbert shall be revealed   
TG: see ya soon   
TG: for the first time

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \-- 

EB: i just hope   
EB: you wont treat me differently

* * *

Twenty agonizing minutes later, the doorbell rings. You leap from the sofa where you'd finally sat down when you realized pacing was doing nothing to calm your nerves. You dive for the doorknob, only to freeze before you give it a turn. This is it. Deep breaths, now. Dave won't reject you. He's too cool for that.

You have an idea of what your best friend looks like. Years ago when you sent him that vague photo of yourself, he sent you one in exchange. You know he has blond hair and wears those sunglasses you sent him. It was just as vague a photo as yours, which you are certain was intentional. What does he look like now? Steeling your nerves, you turn the knob and open the door, heart in your throat.

He's...

Woah.

Dave's hair is indeed a pale yellow, long enough to be swept back and gelled in place. He's still wearing your shades, which are framed by trim sideburns running down his angular face. His shoulders and chest are surprisingly broad; he's grown much taller and more muscular since that photo was taken. He's wearing a snug white shirt with the logo of a record on the front and... are those leather pants?

Is this what a person wears when visiting their best friend for the first time? It strikes you as a bit provocative. Mostly because you CAN'T STOP STARING.

You don't feel like you're being rude, though, because you're positive he's doing the same thing behind those dark glasses. The fact that his jaw has dropped is a big clue.

“Holy SHIT, John,” he suddenly blurts out, “you have HUGE TITS.” He pauses for a moment, almost reaching up to cover his mouth before he turns the gesture into a nervous hair-ruffle instead. He coughs. “Sorry. At least we got that out of the way. So. You're a girl. Okay. That's... yeah. Good.”

You can feel the color rise to your face, and it's only partially because of embarrassment. Somehow it never occurred to you, since you've never heard his voice, that since Dave is from Texas he would have a southern drawl. And not an accent reminiscent of an inbred-hick—oh no, this twang sounds like a rough-and-tumble cowboy oozing with mangrit. And sex. Oh _gog_ , does it sound like sex.

An awkward silence descends between the two of you.

“Come on in,” you finally remember to say, and move aside to let your friend enter.

* * *

You step inside, taking in the interior with a cool sweep of your head. It's quite different from what you're used to, but you knew it would be. You grew up in a shitty apartment filled with sex toys and lethal blades, while John grew up in cushy suburbia with a doting father obsessed with pranks and baking. Suddenly your old jokes about Egbert growing up a spoiled princess seem less ironic. Or, perhaps, _more_ ironic.

You've recovered from your initial shock, enough that you can examine your best friend with your mouth  _shut_ this time.  ~~ He ~~ she is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the ghost decal distorted by the way it stretches across her (very) generous chest. She's not fat by any stretch of the imagination, but she's certainly not stick thin, either. Her dark black hair is short, a tom-boyish cut that frames her pale round face. The dorky square glasses and overlarge front teeth are just as you remember from the old picture  ~~ he ~~ she sent you. John is... cute. But you already knew that.

“So... is John a nickname?”

She flashes a derpy little smile. “Yeah, for Johnnie. No one ever calls me that, though.” She bites her lip and stares at her sneakers for a moment before glancing up apprehensively, startling blue eyes peeking up through her long lashes. “I guess you're probably wondering why I never corrected your assumption that I was a boy.”

“Yeeaaaah, kinda,” you drawl. John gives you a funny look, turning a touch red before shaking it off.

“I liked the way you talked to me. It was so... normal. You may have been an arrogant little pissant, but you were pretty cool, and I loved being bros with you. Before I matured and grew these knockers,” she gestured disparagingly at her chest, “it was easy to mistake me for a boy. A lot of my classmates and neighbors were very surprised when I hit puberty. And then they treated me different! Girls that used to be so friendly suddenly started bitching behind my back. Guys I used to laugh and hang with acted uncomfortable when I was around. The nice ones, anyway. The less-nice ones kept  _accidentally_ groping me.”

You frown, gritting your teeth a little. Those  _bastards_.

“So, that's why I didn't tell you. You're my best friend, and of all the friends that I lost, losing you would hurt the most. So I didn't risk it.” John rubs her forearms and gives you the most pathetically hopeful look you've ever seen. “Will you forgive me? For not trusting you enough to give you a chance?”

You push your shades up your nose in a suave gesture. “Don't sweat it, man. We practically grew up together, even if it wasn't in person. Your personality isn't tied to your gender. This doesn't change how I feel about you in the slightest.”

John's grin is the sunniest thing you've ever seen. You're glad for your glasses, or you might have been blinded. As it is, you still can't help but redden slightly under the intensity of its rays.

* * *

You lead Dave up to your room where he dumps his stuff, so happy you're chattering a mile a minute. There are so many things you want to show him! He takes in your wallpapering of movie posters with an exaggerated sigh and a shake of his head. You show him your DVD collection, your stuffed animal collection (of which the bunny he sent you is the star,) and the latest program you've been writing on your computer. The two of you flop on your bed and pore over his laptop as he shows off his amateur photography while listening to some ill beats he composed himself. You watch Con Air together, and Dave teases you over your blatant crush over Nic Cage, which you still deny. 

When Dad gets home from work you enthusiastically introduce the two of them. Dad is delighted that you finally got to meet your best friend—he knows how much you've wanted and feared to do so. Dave is charming and mature, and your Dad warms up to him almost immediately. You are so happy you even eat a piece of “I'm so happy for you, Daughter!” cake, though not without lots of eye-rolling.

As evening stretches on, he even gets out the inflatable mattress and helps you set it up in your room. You're a little surprised; you kind of thought he might make a fuss about a man spending the night in his precious daughter's room. While Dave digs around in his bag, his back to the door, Dad pauses in the doorway on his way out. Your eyes meet, and you prepare for the inevitable “you kids behave, now!” speech.

He grins and flashes you a thumbs up instead.

“DAD!” you yell, tossing a pillow at his head. He nimbly dodges and escapes, his laughter echoing down the hall. Dave looks at you questioningly, but you shake your reddening face. “Just filling his prankster's gambit on me,” you mutter. Dave's lip twitches in something suspiciously like a laugh, and you decide to throw a pillow at him instead.

* * *

Not long later, both of you have taken the opportunity to slip into the bathroom for teeth brushing and clothes changing. John pops in another movie, steps around you and the air mattress in the dim light, and flops onto the bed.

It is a very enthusiastic flop. In a comfy shirt with no bra underneath. Those impressive jugs bounce quite freely for a few rebounds, and your gaze follows them as if held captive. There's no way John could possibly see your eyes, but since you had to turn your head to see her it's pretty obvious you're not looking at the TV. Her brows draw together and she crosses her arms defensively, but that only serves to press her breasts together.

“Sorry,” you whisper, pretty much confirming her suspicions. She moves her hands to her lap, fidgeting.

“Dave?” 

“Yeah?”

“Why did you come here?”

You swallow. “I wanted to finally meet you.”

John makes circles on the carpet with her toes. “Wasn't it expensive? The plane ticket?”

“I've got a part-time job. It wasn't that bad.”

“You didn't tell me you were coming. You didn't even know if I would let you stay here. What would you have done if I said 'no?'”

“Gone back to Texas, I guess.”

She pauses her movements. “Seems like a lot of risk just to come watch some DVDs with me that you think suck.”

“Call it an impulse.”

“Why?” John slides off the bed and onto the air mattress with you, earnest blue eyes freezing you in place as she moves into your personal space. “Why were you so impulsive? It feels like you're _trying_ not to think things through.”

“I am. Trying not to think, I mean.”

“But _why?_ ”

“Because I'll chicken out if I think.”

She blinks as this, finally leaning back and giving you a chance to breath again. “What could make a coolkid like you so nervous?”

“Crushin' on your best friend, for one,” you blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

* * *

You stare at him in shock. The movie is playing in the background, completely ignored, its light the only illumination to reveal Dave's beat-red face. Your face must look the same, because it feels like it's on fire.

You can't seem to find your tongue, so Dave's starts running instead to fill the awkward silence. He's nervous now, so nervous, and it makes his accent even stronger.

“Why do you think I was always teasin' ya about having a homo-crush on me? It's because I wanted it to be true _so bad_. Not necessarily the homo part, I mean, I've never thought that men are all that attractive, but _gog_ I've never felt this way about anyone _ever_. So I hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could feel the same way about me, so I gathered up my courage to come see ya in person with the vague plan of testin' the waters but as it turns out you're a girl so I guess that's one less obstacle but you said ya didn't want to be treated different but hey, I'm _already_ in love with you and HOLY SHIT you're HOT and I should _really_ stop talkin' now!”

Dave snapped his mouth shut with a click, looking absolutely mortified. His run-on confession is echoing loudly in your ears, like aftershocks of an aural orgasm, and now your entire body feels like it's on fire. With a trembling voice you seek confirmation on one particular line you've latched on to.

“You already love me?”

He apparently doesn't trust himself to speak yet, because he nods vigorously instead.

“But we've never met before today. Shit, Dave, you thought I was a _boy_!”

“Yes. Thank you _so much_ , by the way, for the agony of questionin' my own sexuality.”

“So...” you're a little overwhelmed by the revelation, “you were willing to turn gay for me?”

“Like I said. Your personality isn't tied to your gender. Meet'n you hasn't changed the way I feel about you at all. Although,” his voice dropped to a petulant mutter of a drawl, “it does make it awful hard not to sound like an idiot.”

You can't take it any more. You pounce on him with enough force to knock him to his back on the mattress, devouring those twang-producing lips.

* * *

To say you're surprised would be an understatement. But even that pales in comparison to the joy that has overtaken your senses. You kiss back desperately, arms wrapping around her torso like they'll never let go. John's Dad could walk in right now with a roar of anger and a shotgun and you wouldn't care. The friend you've known for half your life and fell helplessly in love with is kissing you with equal passion. You can die happy.

You break apart and John is grinning like a lovestruck derp. She laughs unrepentantly, and it's just like the way she types: “heh heh heh!” You can't help but chuckle back as she helps you sit up again.

“I think I'd always hoped,” she confesses in return. “It was easy to deny your accusations, since my crush wasn't 'homo,' but you weren't off the mark about me being up in your grill. Every time I think I've met a nice guy, he turns out to be a creeper who only looked at me for my rack. But you... we've had years between us already, and you didn't even know about that.”

“You're very self-conscious about that, aren't ya.”

“Just a bit, yeah,” she said with a half-hearted laugh.

“I hope my ignorance isn't all you like about me.”

John giggles more genuinely this time. “Of course not! I love you because you're an insufferable prick with a heart of gold!” And then she seems to realize what she just said and looks down, adorably flustered.

Suddenly you can't take it anymore either. You reach up to your shades, the ones she gave you when you were only thirteen, and pull them off with only the slightest bit of hesitation. Striders don't reveal their eyes to anyone and she knows it, but you want to see her without obstruction. You can hear her breath catch in her throat as she meets your gaze, and her eyes are _so_ blue. She seems stunned by what she sees. Red eyes are pretty uncommon, after all.

“I thought you weren't supposed to do that,” John finally breathes, affected.

“I don't mind, if it's you,” you answer, and you sound pretty damn affected, too.

John looks like she's just witnessed a street-tough maverick with nothing to lose reunite with his loving wife and daughter for the very first time. She buries her face in your shoulder before the tears can fall.

“Shut up!” she mutters preemptively. You grin.

* * *

The two of you watch the rest of the movie like that, wrapped in each other's arms and leaning back against your bed, side by side. Dave's hand rubs up and down your back, politely staying away from your front. You appreciate the gesture; you've been felt up before, against your will, and it was humiliating. But you feel comfortable within the southern man's embrace, and if you're being honest with yourself, aroused. After being confined in a bra all day your breasts feel wonderfully liberated, and the texture of your shirt against your bare skin is pleasantly distracting. As Dave rubs your back the fabric shifts ever so slightly, and you have no doubt that your nipples are sticking straight out. Your attention in the movie is waning; you've seen it before anyway. Your body is feeling too warm, and all you can think about is Dave's hands, and how you really wish they would do a little wandering.

“>Dave...”

He looks down, then blinks in surprise at how flushed your face is.

“You can be a little more... adventurous... if you want,” you whisper, embarrassed to say it out loud.

His hand freezes on your back. “I thought that wasn't allowed,” he whispers back.

“I don't mind... if it's you,” you confess, intentionally mirroring his previous statement.

Dave licks his lips and swallows hard, desire plainly written in his scarlet gaze as it travels lower down your body. His eyes seem locked on what he finds there. The hand on your back slides over to your side, rubbing slow strokes up and down from your hip to your underarm. Tentatively, he lets his fingers trail across the side of the round protrusion, waiting to see if you tense up or not. When you don't, he slips his hand under your shirt and tries the motion again, this time against your bare skin. Your breathing quickens, but you still don't reject his touch.

He snakes his arm around you further, fingers trailing over the underside of your massive orbs. His touch is so light it leaves tingling sensations behind. Dave finally cups his hand under the weight and gives you a gentle squeeze, lifting you up as he watches the movement with fascination. Your eyes roll back in your head, lashes drifting closed.

Feeling more confident that you're not going to change your mind, Dave slips his other hand under your shirt, caressing you with increasing enthusiasm. You both shift positions a little, until you're leaning back against his chest with your head on his shoulder, giving him better access. You can feel the moist air across your neck as his breath comes faster, but mostly you feel his hands; rough and burning hot as they kneed your flesh.

“May I?” he asks with a little tug at your night shirt. You squeak out an affirmative and lift your arms long enough for him to pull the garment over your head. Cool air blows tantalizingly against your bare torso, which must be unusually flushed. You've never even flashed anyone in jest before, you were too sensitive about your chest. Now the man you love is staring down at your exposed boobs like he's hypnotized. It might even be half-way true. Men are like that.

You open your mouth to make a joke to that effect, but suddenly lose the ability to speak. Dave has just started running his thumbs over your nipples, and it is the most fantastic thing you have ever felt. Electricity is running straight to your groin, and an embarrassing noise just took the opportunity of your open mouth to slip out. You would turn redder if you could, but that's probably impossible. Dave seems absolutely delighted by what he's discovered. He cups your breasts and gently lifts them, tweaking both tits between thumbs and forefingers. 

Suddenly you couldn't care less what kind of noises you're making. You arch into his touch, gasping for air and unconsciously spreading your legs a bit. You have just gone from 'horny' to 'Oh-gog-fuck-me-now!!' in less than two seconds. Dave could propose anything right now, anything at all, and you would go for it.

* * *

You have never been so turned on in your life.

There is an adorkable girl sitting practically in your lap, making the most arousing moans, and a pair of gargantuan knockers in both hands. As much of them as can fit, anyway. Two firm pink nubs are held hostage between your fingers, and the more you roll them back and forth, the more John shudders and writhes within your arms. She lifts her arms up over both your heads, reaching behind yours to run her fingers through your hair. Occasionally her grip tightens as she curls backwards, affording you an even better view as she arches into your hands.

“Oh, _gog_ , Dave!” she suddenly sobs. “Please, _please_ , anything! Anything you want!”

You thought you were turned on before. That was nothing. You lay John down on the air mattress, kneeling between her legs and leaning over to bury your face in that gorgeous cleavage. An experimental lick elicits a surprised squeak. You peer up to gaze into her heavy lidded eyes, almost black with arousal. Her breath freezes in anticipation, and you can't help but smirk.

You move your mouth over to a pert nipple and engulf it, teeth grazing the base as you attack the peak with your tongue.

“ _Shit_ , Dave!” she hisses, throwing her head back. Her hands roam across your shoulders, pulling your shirt up so she can reach bare skin as well. You stop long enough to ditch the garment, then lean back down to attack the other breast. John's hands stroke across what she can reach of your back, lightly brushing across the skin with her blunt nails. It leaves tracks of tingles wherever she touches.

You're confused for a moment when she reaches for your face and pulls you off, but the adoring grin that reveals her dorky teeth wipes away the doubt. “Kiss me?”

“Yes ma'am,” you reply, and for some reason she sucks in a sharp breath at that.

“Fucking _cowboys_ ,” she mutters before yanking you down. Her boobs squish against your chest, but even more noticeably, her hands can now reach your pants. Not much of them, but enough to count. Now it's your turn to make an embarrassing noise as your manhood is suddenly squeezed through your sweats. You break off the kiss to say something, but it turns incomprehensible as she slips her hand under the waistband.

“You know what I want, Dave?” she whispers into your ear, and it's all you can do to wrap your brain around those simple words, because all intelligent thought has ceased under her touch. “I want to find out if everything really _is_ bigger in Texas.” 

You hope to jegus you didn't whimper. That would totally ruin your image.

You get off of John long enough to shed the last of your clothes, and she takes the opportunity to do the same. For a moment you just look at each other, both admiring your best friend's less-familiar anatomy. Then she grabs you and pulls you back on top of her, and you're rutting against her before you can help yourself.

“>Um. Should I get a condom?” you manage to ask between kisses. She shakes her head, spreading her legs wider beneath you.

“I'm on birth control. For my acne,” she clarifies with a blush. You nod and shift a bit, and you know you've hit the right spot because she suddenly hisses with pain and goes tense beneath you. It occurs to you, with some trepidation, that John is a virgin. The pain is clearing some of the lust induced fog, and she's starting to tremble with nervousness. Not what you wanted.

You've got an idea, though.

* * *

You are quite surprised when Dave suddenly flips the both of you over, rolling almost off the edge of the mattress. You're sitting on top of him now, your breasts dangling over his chest. “Go as slow as you need,” he reassures you, straining forward to lick and fondle your tits once more. It looks uncomfortable to do that. It feels _fantastic_.

Fire once again courses through your body, the electric pain of want swirling in your groin. You press up and down against Dave's own swollen need, a bit more each time, each pass stretching you a little more and giving his dick a slippery coating. When it's about to hurt, you stop; letting yourself relax until the work of his hands give you the desperate desire to be filled, encouraging you to try again. Dave's hands start trembling as you slide farther down his shaft, his bitten off curses and gasps for air mixing with your own in a strange, guttural duet.

You are almost surprised when your thighs meet his own, and you realize the hard part is over. Or rather, the hard part is inside you. You smile at your own pun, leaning down to plant a kiss on Dave's lips. He moans and flips the two of you over again, staring down at you with his dilated red eyes.

“Fuck, John, you're killin' me and I haven't even started yet!”

“Heh heh heh.”

“I hope you like it slow, 'cause I'm not gonna last if you don't.”

“Don't know. Guess I'll find out!” you say with a grin.

Dave mutters something about teeth and cuteness, dropping his head to hide his face. With a role of his hips he pulls out almost entirely and slides back inside in one smooth motion, making your breath catch. He repeats the motion again, and then again, working with the music in his blood to set up a steady rhythm. It feels pretty good!

He drops down to his elbows, not quite putting his weight on you as your chests press together. “ _Fuck!_ ” he murmurs into your shoulder, then turns his head and starts kissing the base of your neck. You stretch your head back, exposing more skin for his attentions. You're startled when he clamps his teeth into the flesh, a sudden flash of mild pain that he quickly licks away. He sucks hard on the same spot, and you feel a shiver of thrill as you realize he's leaving a “back off!” warning for all the guys who've troubled you.

Something about the way his dick brushes against your groin when it's out, combined with the way he fills and stretches you when it's in, is making your internal temperature skyrocket. The pace is just slow enough as to be deliciously agonizing with each stroke, and Dave notices the way your breath has become very loud and labored.

“Feelin' good?” he drawls with an insufferable smirk.

You whimper something that sounds vaguely affirmative.

“Anythin' else you want?” he asks more seriously. “Faster? Harder?”

“N-no,” you respond after a moment, struggling to find the word that describes what you need. “Um... deeper?”

“Anythin' the lady wants,” he breathes, and begins to push further with each thrust. Your arms grip him tightly and you try to spread your legs even farther, unashamed as long as it will increase this amazing feeling even more. A small part of your brain marvels at his endurance; surely his pelvic muscles are burning by now. The rest of your brain, however, is focused on the rising force of heat that's spreading through your body from head to toe, depriving you of sanity.

“Oh, gog. Just... like that. Fuck. Oh gog! Oh, fuck! Dave! Don't s-stop! Dave, oh, aaah! D-Dave!” You continue to spew inanities as the sensation overwhelms you and the muscles around his shaft start convulsing and contracting, beyond your control. Dave stutters out his own string of swears and 'Johns' and you can feel him tremble against you. He still doesn't stop yet, but continues moving for as long as he can stand it, dragging out your orgasm until the sensation is too much for him to bear.

The two of you stay like that for a while, kissing languidly in the afterglow. You're both sweaty and shaking, grinning like idiots when you pull away. The movie finished playing a long time ago, the DVD menu playing on eternal repeat, completely forgotten. Dave finally pulls out of you, wiping up the mess with his shirt and yanking the sheet off of your bed above. He collapses beside you and throws the light blanket across you both, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You do the same, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

By morning you're sure the mattress will have leaked out all its air and your Dad will have baked you a “Congratulations on losing your virginity” cake, but you couldn't care less.

The future is looking brighter than it ever has.

* * *

John's breathing slows as she falls asleep, and you hug her a little tighter. You are so glad you manned up and got on that plane. You are so glad John felt the same. You're pretty damn glad John turned out to be a girl, for that matter, though it wouldn't have made a difference. You toy with one of her short locks as sleep steals over you.

You've never been so un-ironically happy in your life. You suspect a lot of your happiness is going to be dorkishly genuine from now on. Oh, well.

It's a small price to pay for what you've gained.


End file.
